


Better Together

by Misskiku



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 21:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misskiku/pseuds/Misskiku
Summary: Frey wanders into Porcoline's kitchen and finds Dylas cooking.





	Better Together

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request on tumblr and i just haaaad to write it! Its based on Dylas' event where you find him cooking in Porcoline's kitchen.

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, Frey wandered into Porcoline’s Kitchen to find Dylas there busying away by himself. He was completely focused on his cooking, slicing and chopping an onion finely with methodical, rhythmic motions of the knife. So focused, in fact, that he didn’t notice Frey walk up to the kitchen at all. He didn’t see her lean on the counter, a smile on her face, watching him. She studied him silently as he made quick work of the onion, waiting for the moment when he’d notice her. It didn’t take long. After finishing with the onion, Dylas swept it aside and reached over to grab another chopping board and met Frey’s eyes.

Dylas blinked at her. Once. Twice. Then balked, realising that she was actually there and not an image conjured up by his wandering imagination. It wasn’t his fault that she always seemed to end up the subject of his thoughts!

“When did you get here?” Dylas huffed, his heart fluttering in his chest. How long had she been standing there, watching him? Had she been wearing that dazzling smile on her face the whole time?

A glimmer of mirth reached her eyes as she smiled.

“Just a minute ago,” she said innocently, though the amused light in her eyes told Dylas she’d been watching him silently on purpose.

“Then say something!”

The ire in his voice softened Frey’s smile. “Sorry. You looked like you were busy cooking so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

And she loved watching him. She enjoyed seeing the intense concentration on his face, the deft movements of his hands as he sliced and diced with ease. It was stunning to watch, almost mesmerising in a way. He’d learnt so much from Porcoline that it left Frey stunned.

Dylas’ expression fell. Her intentions had been innocent and yet he’d almost snapped at her for no reason. He took a breath to calm himself before replying. “Thanks, but next time don’t sneak up on me!”

It wasn’t good for his heart to have her appear like that so suddenly. It was hard enough seeing her smile like that on a normal day when he had time to prepare himself.

Dylas straightened his collar, absently fixing his clothes to settle his nerves. “What were you doing, anyway?”

Frey’s gentle smile returned. “Nothing. I was just wondering what you were making.” She glanced at the ingredients he’d prepared, trying to imagine what the finished product would be.

Dylas stared. “What, so you were just watching?”

“Yeah.”

His heart skipped. “…Me?”

“Yeah.” Her tone, thought slightly amused, was incredulous.

Heat rushed up Dylas’ face. A burning, scorching flush coloured his cheeks, searing his skin a violent red. The air in his lungs died, throat and mouth suddenly dry. Any coherent thoughts he’d had fled at the realisation that she’d been watching him that whole time.

“You’re turning red,” Frey noted.

Dylas choked on his words. “W-Well of course! It’s hot in a kitchen!” The blush on his cheeks burned hotter, darker than before. It was all her fault, damn it, but there’s no way he could say that.

“That’s true.”

Despite the fact that he had yet to actually begin cooking in earnest. The stove wasn’t even on.

“E-Exactly.” Dylas cursed himself for stammering but was glad Frey took him at face value. It was a good thing she was so oblivious sometimes.

“Practicing a new recipie?” Frey asked, giving the ingredients he’d gathered a curt nod. “That’s awfully diligent of you.”

Dylas turned back to his cooking, grabbing the chicken thighs and cutting them up into small, even pieces. “N-Not really.” He tried desperately to focus on what he was doing, each stroke of the knife, but he was struggling with Frey’s eyes on him. He could still see her in the corner of his vision yet it was like she was right in front of him. He could hardly see the cutting board, the knife, the chicken.

He needed to think of something else other than her.

“It’s not like I’m trying to get better so I can be more help to Porcoline or anything,” Dylas rambled, finishing up with the chicken quickly so he could move on and do something else.

Frey nodded slowly. _“Oh.”_

Dylas glanced back at her, unable to forget the fact that she was still there. Watching him. He swallowed thickly. “Uh, so how long are you going to stand there and watch?”

“Until I get bored.”

A simple, straightforward answer that shot a spear of heat to Dylas’ face. “Q-Quit it! You’re making it hard for me to concentrate!” he barked, stealing his gaze away and glaring at the onion instead. How could she stand there and say something like that with such an innocent smile on her face, Dylas didn’t know. “Idiot,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“Why?” Frey asked, a curious eyebrow raised.

Dylas knew instantly he’d dug himself into a hole. “Wh-What do you mean, why?” He grabbed the bottle of oil, unscrewing the lid so he didn’t have to look at her. Heat crawled down his neck. He glanced back at her to find her staring, still watching, still waiting. Her eyes still on him. Dylas brought a hand up to his cheeks as if he could cover the burning flush and furiously looked away. “Stop staring…” He couldn’t bring himself to bark at her now. Not with her looking at him like that, gaze innocent and expectant.

Frey moved in the corner of Dylas’ vision and he stiffened when she entered the kitchen and came beside him. She studied the ingredients, the frypans and bowls set out before him.

“What are you making?” Frey asked, running her gaze up and down the counter.

“Omelette rice.” Dylas nodded to the eggs and busied himself drizzling oil into the frypan and setting it on the stove. Anything to get his mind off the fact that she was right beside him. Barely inches between them. His face burned as hotly as if he’d opened the oven door and looked right in.

Frey’s smile brightened. “Ooh! Can I help?” She bounced on her toes, eagerly looking up at him with a light, a joy, in her eyes that Dylas couldn’t refuse. His heart fluttered at the sight.

Dylas forced his eyes away to stop himself from staring, captivated. The drumming of his heart in his chest was painfully fast, painfully distracting. She was distracting. “S-Sure. Do you want to make the omelettes?”

Better to put her to work than have her watch him the whole time. He wasn’t sure how long he could take her curious gaze before he melted into a flustered pile of mush. Surely his heart would give out long before that.

“On it!” Frey said eagerly, grabbing the empty bowl, the whisk, and settled in front of the eggs. Dylas breathed a sigh of relief and focused on heating the oil as Frey cracked and whisked the eggs. From time to time, Dylas glanced at her to find her working away, twirling her wrist expertly as she whisked the eggs with a bit of milk. He wasn’t completely stunned at her skill but was certainly impressed that he took a moment to watch her.

He wondered if this was how she felt when watching him. Light. Warm and strangely fuzzy. Captivated.

Dylas quickly turned back to his own cooking as Frey joined him at the stove. They worked, shoulder-to-shoulder, in an amicable silence, and Dylas found himself relaxing, slowly becoming at ease with her presence. Having her beside him was comforting. Enjoyable. In fact, if he dared to admit it, he actually _liked_ cooking with her.

Soon enough, with the fried rice and omelette perfectly cooked, Dylas divided a portion of his fried rice on top of the omelette. Frey watched intently as he used a spatula to fold both sides of the omelette towards the middle, covering the rice. It was easier now, having her watch him. He actually didn’t mind the feel of her eyes on him, and let himself smile faintly.

With a practiced grace, Dylas flipped the pan and delivered the omelette rice expertly onto a place face-down. Frey gasped and watched eagerly as Dylas finished the plating until it looked perfect. He topped it all with a drizzle of ketchup on top.

Frey cooed in delight at the omelette rice. “Wow, it looks so good.” Her stomach grumbled in agreement and she laughed bashfully, an embarrassed flush colouring her cheeks. “Sorry!”

“You want some of it?”

Frey gave a gasp of elation. “Really? Can I?” The joy in her eyes, her voice, her smile, was blinding and overwhelming. It stole Dylas’ breath away.

Dylas nodded stiffly, struggling to hold her gaze. “Sure. Here.” He offered her the plate.

“But what about you? I can’t just eat it all.” Frey glanced down at the perfect omelette rice in her hands dismally.

“I can always make some more…”

“We’ll share it then,” Frey said, deciding by herself and gathering another place. Before Dylas could protest Frey divided the omelette rice into two and shifted one half to the free place. “I know it’s not perfect now, but it’s not fair if I’m the only one who gets to enjoy it.” With a smile, Frey took the two plates to a table and set them opposite each other. Dylas watched, speechless, before shaking his head and following her.

Frey was already helping herself when Dylas sat down, a content smile on her face. She relished the taste with a hum of delectation. At her obvious delight, Dylas tried some for himself.

“Not bad,” he said, giving it an appraising nod.

“It’s so good,” Frey crooned. “I wouldn’t mind eating like this all the time!”

Dylas stared at her, frozen with his fork suspended halfway to his mouth at the thought of cooking for Frey every day. Being able to see her delight at his cooking every single day. His mind conjured up the image of him in her kitchen, her waiting expectantly, eagerly, for his food. Sharing meals with her day in, day out. He flushed darkly as he realised where his thoughts had gone.

“We should do this again sometime,” Frey offered. She smiled at him and his daydreaming went unnoticed.

“Next time, show up the normal way, okay?” Dylas said, brushing those thoughts quickly away. “No more sneaking.”

Frey’s smile was bright, the joy in her voice reaching her eyes and making it impossible for Dylas to meet her eyes. “Okay!”

Dylas had to tear his eyes away as a surge of heat dusted his cheeks. The nervous fluttering of his heart was back and it was all because of that beautiful, innocent smile. A smile of absolute delight. A smile warm enough to melt even the coldest heart.

It had melted his long ago.   


End file.
